


be reasonable, gentlemen

by liamozes



Category: Garrow's Law
Genre: Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends, M/M, awww yissss i ship these two more than mac and cheese, man i'm not witty at all but let's goooo, maybe lovers?, set before the whole hill fiasco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-05 13:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18367196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamozes/pseuds/liamozes
Summary: Silvester unwillingly admits to himself that Garrow would no doubt be one of the greatest barristers to make his living in the Old Bailey if he were not so stubborn.





	be reasonable, gentlemen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparkeythehamster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkeythehamster/gifts).



> it literally says on the bbc webpage that "garrow won't play the rules; which drives silvester to distraction". i pounced on that and wrote this.
> 
> (skip the trials if you want to avoid inaccurate legal procedures)
> 
> chapter title inspired by a quote from oscar wilde: "I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good intellects."

Mr Silvester, born to a family of physicians, schooled at Eton and Oxford, silver-tongued and whip-smart prosecutor of the Old Bailey, is not prone to anger, nor is he often at a loss for words.

There is just something about that upstart Garrow's arrogance that makes his hair stand on end. The other man stalks around the courtroom like a hunting dog now, sniffing for weaknesses in the witness's testimony. 

"Mr Bishop has stated that he does not own a horse. He is but a humble blacksmith. Nor does he have the resources to care for one-" Garrow was addressing the jury directly, as was his unbreakable habit, and Silvester, as always, cared enough to ask Judge Buller to stop it. 

"My Lord, my learned friend is speaking directly to the jurymen."

Buller huffs. "Mr Garrow, you shall refrain from addressing the jury and instead ask your question."

Garrow glances at Silvester, his steely blue eyes flashing with the power of his will. He clearly did not like this interruption. In the past, he would've come up with a clever retort to this convention, but these days he simply goes with it. He believes it may be that he was still cowed by the duel they had fought a few months ago. 

The tall barrister pivots neatly to face the witness in the box, his robe flaring. Silvester notes the swift, precise movement. 

"Mr Hennesey- did you fabricate the account of Mr Bishop's theft in order to gain the rights to his shop, which has been stated by you yourself, to be in a busier area?"

The observers in the gallery gasp dramatically. Silvester resists the urge to rub at his temples. Yet another case to be lost to this infuriating man. He has never met a self-declared man of law with so much emotional investment in the outcome of any case, much less one concerning the theft of a dozen horseshoes by a commoner. 

Mr Hennesey deflates considerably, caught mid-lie. His startled eyes really do tell it all. Mr Bishop looks relieved. Garrow has a small quirk to his mouth as he looks at the defendant.

"Mr Hennesey, you must answer the question."

"Yes," The plaintiff whispers, barely loud enough for them to hear, but still an admission, which throws Silvester's carefully structured case out of the window. "I did, Sir."

"No further questions." 

Garrow returns to his seat, staring firmly ahead. The twelve men of the jury speak in hushed tones among themselves. 

The jury returns a unanimous verdict of "not guilty" and the court adjourns. A man was saved from the rope by Garrow once more. 

He sweeps past his preening rival, briefs and law books under his arm. Silvester is in desperate want for a glass of brandy.  

* * *

 

He and Garrow cross paths at the Old Bailey more often than they do not. While the other man's knowledge of the law is lacking, his conviction and quick mind surely make up for that loss. Silvester tells himself that he does not relish the times they clash over the pettiest of matters, but he likes to exercise his sharp wit on a worthy adversary. 

Today he is prosecuting a case against a Ms Elizabeth Miller, whose barrister Mr John Morse, a dullard in his opinion, insists that she is not guilty. 

Silvester himself is sure of her innocence, for no words can convey the amount of pain in the servant girl's watery gaze. But Mr Morse, being a dullard, allows her defense to fall apart before his half-hearted cross-examination of a key witness. It did not take much to convince the jury to convict Ms Miller. 

Afterwards, he thinks that the girl would not find herself in the sorry situation of ten years' imprisonment with Garrow's help, and stops himself. More lawyers in court should be upstanding like himself, and not like William Garrow. The court could not take more than one hot-headed and foolish Billingsgate barrister. 

Silvester goes over the next brief that the attorney assigned to him has thoughtfully placed atop his clean desk. 

His eyes go naturally to the name of the defendant. A small thrill runs through him as he sees the name of the barrister tasked to defend Mr Nathaniel Walter, one he blames on the draft in his office. _William Garrow_.  

* * *

 

"Your client is as dirty as the mud he was born in," He says to Garrow as they meet in the corridor to the courtroom. Mr Southouse looks at him disapprovingly while the man he addresses gives him a hard gaze. "It will not be difficult to send the wretch to the gallows."

Though outwardly cool, Silvester can see the resolve burning behind Garrow's eyes. His voice is soft, mockingly gentle. "You should not speculate on the outcome of the trial before it is gone through, Mr Silvester. There will be justice in this court today."

"I suppose you know not of _real_ justice, naive as you are."

He heads off in direction of the room, having had the last word, leaving Garrow stewing in his wake. 

Silvester suspects that Judge Buller, impartial as he may be, had a soft spot for Garrow, seeing as how the old man straightens in his chair when the man rises to cross-examine his own witness. 

Garrow paints a sympathetic picture of the defendant- masterfully so, Silvester grudgingly admits. 

"Did Mr Walter ever talk of arming himself?"

"No, he did not, Sir."

Garrow turns away from the witness. "And being an account keeper, you did not see him withdraw amounts to purchase arms?"

"No, Sir."

"Then is it accurate to say, for the benefit of the jury, Mr Hampton, that a self-made man like Mr Walter right there-" He points to the accused. "- would not have any reason to carry out the alleged attack on the night of his first child's birth?"

The witness shakes his head. "No, he was at his wife's side, all through the night."

Silvester stands, hands on the lapels of his robe. "My Lord, this is not relevant to the charges of conspiracy and fraud."

"Agreed. Mr Garrow, how does this pertain to the crime in question?"

Silvester sits down primly, as he watches the gears in Garrow's head turn. Throughout the trial, he had built a strong case for defense, though it was not related to the charge of conspiracy, but of assault. This would not go well for Mr Walter, because as a black freeman, the odds were stacked against him in the first place. 

He was uncertain as to why even bother defending a Negro, given that the jury of whites would _definitely_ not acquit him. It was this stubbornness in the face of immovable adversity that made it all the more appealing to Silvester to defeat his rival.   

Silvester meets Garrow's eyes briefly while the jury conferred amongst each other. The other man licked his lips. He looks away. 

"Guilty." 

Garrow lowers his face into his hands for a moment. Silvester feels a pang of _something_ for him. 

Mr Walters is sentenced to hang, and his wife is inconsolable. A part of Silvester thinks that were he a white man, the trial would have gone in Garrow's favour, for the defendant was clearly being framed, but it was only a small part. 

He supposes it was just as well that a black man had gone to the gallows and not a white one. 

* * *

 

Feeling unresolved and tipsy with good wine, he heads off to visit Garrow after dark on a whim. 

The man opens the door for him, surprise evident in his stance. "Mr Silvester. I hope you are not here to gloat about your victory in court today."

"The jury made a sound decision."

Garrow's face is guarded. "Come in."

And he does. Garrow's office itself is a hovel compared to his own, papers upon papers stacked on top of open lawbooks. Silvester deduces that the barrister is not selective of what cases he took on. The flickering light of two lonely candles highlights the untreated mess. It smells like ink, incense and the filth of the street below. 

"I suppose the state of one's office mirrors the state of the man," Silvester says with a dismissive wave of his arm.

"You are _drunk_ , Silvester, and the hour is late," Garrow's hand is on his shoulder as he leads him to a chair. "Go home."

"Do not send me away, Sir," He says, as the other man's face grows clearer in his blurry vision.

After a pause, he adds. "Do you hate me, Garrow?"

"Very much." The other man says without hesitation. Silvester's heart sinks a little. It was stupid of him to think them friends after the duel but he had hoped their relationship would slowly become more civil- "In no way are you my equal, though I respect your skills in court."

Silvester assumes that he means it as a half-sincere compliment. 

"I do not hate you."

Looking down at him, Garrow's eyes crinkle with amusement and some astonishment. "If you are indeed inebriated and will surely not recall the events of tonight tomorrow, then I shall profess of my initial want to make a friendly acquaintance outside of court with a barrister."

"I suspect we will never be so casual with one another."

"Unfortunately so, Sir," Garrow replies truthfully, pouring two glasses of water. 

Silvester scrutinizes Garrow's face as he sips the tasteless water. He could understand why Lady Sarah Hill would be attracted to those strong, handsome features and bright, intelligent eyes. Without a wig on, his natural hair appears soft to the touch. When not provoked or trading insults, he spoke with a kind tone, even to an enemy.

In another life, it would have been easy to trust Garrow. To grow close to him. 

Silvester quashes these queer thoughts of _intimacy_ with a man, and leans back in the chair.

Garrow shows no signs of wanting to kick him out, so Silvester sits quietly, watching the man work. Occasionally he looks up, as though to confirm Silvester's presence, but for the most part, he is focused and driven. It is a relaxing process, and he could feel his eyes begin to close. 

"Why do you waltz into my office, Mr Silvester?" Garrow asks, finishing up his work. 

Silvester tries to think of a reason. It would be laughable if he told the truth, which was that he did not enjoy the company of his own university friends because the backhanded compliments and constant bragging wore him thin sometimes.  

So he does not answer.

He gets up on his own, buttoning his coat. Garrow does the same.  

Silvester leans against the doorframe, taking in the other man's figure lit by the waning candlelight. "You are not a likeable man, Garrow."

The man in question purses his lips, eyes but slits. "I could say the same of you, Mr Silvester."

"Good night, Sir," Silvester responds, dipping his head.  

“Good night, Mr Silvester,” Garrow smiles at him. It is the first time that gentle smile had been directed in his direction. 

Outside on the dreary London street, Silvester fervently hopes he will not make a habit of this.  

* * *

 

"Court shall rise," Everyone in the courtroom stands as Judge Buller walks slowly to his seat. Silvester maintains that one day he shall be in the same position, that people would respect him and his words. 

"Be seated."

Garrow, who has not glanced at Silvester's way once this morning, shuffles his notes around. 

The defendant, a young girl of no more than ten and six, walks out in chains, head bowed. She was charged with grand larceny, a crime that demanded capital punishment, and was the first of many cases to be tried at the Old Bailey. Silvester had gone through the details, found the prosecutrix credible, and knew that this would be a simple open-and-shut case. 

His opponent is adamant that Ms Jane Smith is innocent, and lengthens the trial. 

"Did you not purposefully put the trinkets in plain sight of Ms Smith, hoping that she will put them in her own pocket?"

The plaintiff's face is ashen. 

"Answer the question, Mrs Almond," Judge Buller says. 

"I did."

This prompts a loud gasp from the onlookers. 

Silvester sighs.

"My Lord, Mrs Almond has on four previous occasions brought forward similar cases of grand larceny to this court, apparently she has claimed before that her servants were innocent girls when they came into her employment until she did so maliciously corrupt them through temptation!"

Garrow is shouting again. Silvester shakes his head. 

"Is there a question in this, Mr Garrow?"

Mrs Almond narrows her gaze. 

"Do you take perverse pleasure in prosecuting young girls who will be hanged for their crime?"

The woman's voice is small. 

"...Yes," The court is in an uproar as Mrs Almond tries to regain her moral high ground in their eyes.  "But it is only because I wish to see common thieves like her come to justice."

"The worthless trinkets you brag about to your servants are not worth more than twelve pence, are they?"

A pause. 

"Yes."

"Then do you believe that this girl deserves to hang for this?"

"I _do_ , Sir, for she is the one who stole it."

Garrow turns to the Judge. "My Lord, I ask for the defendant's charge be reduced to a misdemeanour, which she will plead guilty to."

Silvester rises. "My learned friend cannot do this, My Lord."

Garrow looks at him for the first time today, eyes blazing. "Mr Silvester must not have been paying attention, for it is by Mrs Almond's own admission that the trinkets Ms Smith stole were worth less than twelve pence."

"And we are supposed to take the word of an unreliable witness? The charge still stands."

"She is your client, Mr Silvester," The Judge says. 

"Well, she would not agree with this reduction."

Garrow scoffs. "Of course she would not, she is a woman who derives pleasure from another's pain."

"My word is final, Mr Silvester," The Judge says firmly. "Be seated. It is time for the Jury to confer."

The jury decides that the defendant is not guilty of grand larceny. 

"Ms Smith, though the nature of your crime is special and the jury has declared you not guilty of grand larceny, given the existence of your theft, the court sentences you to transportation for three years," Judge Buller bangs his gavel. "Next case."

There is a look of relief on the girl's plain face as her hands are uncuffed. From the grin on Garrow's face, you would think he had just won a great victory. 

Silvester would never understand that man.  

* * *

 

Perhaps he does stop by Garrow's office on his way from court. Southouse lets him in with a weary glitter in his eyes.

"Why do you visit us, Sir?"

"I come unarmed," Southouse is not amused by that. "I have received word that Garrow is retreating to the countryside."

"Indeed he is."

"I come to say farewell to him."

"He _is_ coming back."

"Is he?"

He finds the man gathering notes and papers into a travel case. 

"Leaving so soon, Garrow?" Silvester sneers. "Finally going back to the uncivilised country to defend cattle thieves?"

"You come in to insult me, Sir?" Out of his barrister robes and in the clear light of day, Garrow cuts an almost sophisticated figure. "I will not have it."

"I hope you will not return for a long time, Sir."

"I am off to Bramber, for a much-needed respite between sessions."

Bramber is a place no respectable gentleman would be caught dead in, in Silvester's opinion. "I see."

"If you do not have it in you to return to London, Garrow, I shall be most grateful."

"That you will win more cases in my absence?"

"Your cases today hardly resulted in a triumph, Sir."

"The law makes it so that most will not succeed, Silvester."

"But it is the law."

Garrow puts down his books. "Which can be changed."

"To let commoners get away with indecency? No, Sir, I am against it."

"Burning women for theft is hardly decent in of itself."

"So the law has a deterrent effect."

"Spoken like a man from a position of privilege. The law has no _compassion_."

They stare at each other, not willing to back down. For some reason, Garrow is standing awfully close to Silvester, looking down at him. 

"Enjoying yourself, boys?" Southouse enters, voice laced with false cheer. 

Silvester places his hands behind his back, taking a step away from Garrow, who has an unreadable look on his face. "I must be excused, Mr Southouse. Mr Garrow."

He wonders what was it that drew him like this to this maverick, for Silvester rarely spoke to men with such ideas about justice. Garrow would be a good lawyer if he was not so against the law as a whole.

_I hope that we will ~~not~~ meet again._

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> historical fACts  
> \- so in Georgian England there was this Bloody Code which punished the smallest of things with capital punishment or the lesser charge of transportation and it was really unfair  
> \- silvester was based on this guy called John Sylvester so yeah his first name is John here  
> -everyone is formal and it's not funny
> 
> okay- recently i have been obsessed with this cancelled show that is three series long with four episodes per series known as garrow's law. its fandom is pretty much dead so im not expecting anyone to read this (and like it, but there's always hope haha). 
> 
> every case here is fictionalised bc i just can't find the old bailey archives. the trials are a mess, i have no idea what im writing about.
> 
> how do i capture their voices? it's hard so they're somewhat out of character. i used a lot of modern phrases. irl there's like a 15-year age gap between them (silvester was born in 1745 and garrow was born in 1760), but in the show they seem to be roughly the same age.
> 
> i love these two so freaking much. not to the point where i would write hate sex, but you know i came pretty close lmao. i will update this within a month, god willing. 
> 
> this is for sparkeythehamster- the only other writer in the garrow/silvester tag. sorry for misspelling "shippers" in my comment.
> 
> disclaimer: i know nothing of the law in 18th century England.


End file.
